He pondered for a moment.

  Then, from his lips, a voice like woven silk rang out—ethereal, enchanting.

  "Time unravels, the path shrouded in mist.

  Where shadow and light entwine, unseen hands weave destiny.

  Echoes of what was and what will be bleed into one.

  The wheel turns, but no trace is left behind."

  na surged from his core, siphoned away with ruthless speed. A dull ache bloomed in his abdomen, twisting and deepening with each passing second. His breath came in ragged gasps.

  Pain, sharp as a dagger, tore through his core, dragging him to his knees. The world blurred at the edges, his vision swimming as sweat dripped from his temple.

  Then, suddenly, an influx of information smmed into his mind.

  "—Year 862, Waren Baron Household…"

  His limbs still trembled from mana depletion, a faint ringing in his ears. Each breath felt like dragging air through soaked cloth. He grimaced as another wave of nausea twisted his gut.

  Silence reigned for a few seconds.

  "…What a load of crap, I could have gotten the information, without the spell…"

  The spell he used just now, connected the caster to a spirit beast, which, in exchange for mana, revealed a lost path, a moment in time, or a hidden pce. Though vague, it was said to guide those without direction—to help them find their purpose, their reason for living.

  Lucien had hoped it would show him a way out of this illusion.

  I should have known... the mana wasn't enough.

  The more significant the information, the greater the mana cost.

  And I'm not even an Awakened right now.

  His mana reserves were pitiful—puny and meager.

  "So… what now?"

  He had no damn idea who the enemy was or what their aims were. The system status wouldn't open, his body was too weak… hell, he might as well drop dead from sneezing too hard.

  With a sigh, he massaged his temples, closing his eyes in deep thought.

  Then, suddenly—an epiphany. His eyes snapped open.

  "GODDAMN IT—the dream! What was that about?"

  "What happened st time? The st thing I remember… I was meeting with someone. Then everything after that feels fuzzy."

  He tried to piece together the fragments of his memory, but it was like grasping at mist—hazy, clouded, slipping away the moment he reached for it. It felt as if he had been drunk the entire time, his thoughts sluggish and disjointed.

  "AHhhhhhhhhhh—"

  A frustrated groan tore from his throat as he clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if trying to cw out the answers buried deep within.

  "J—Jay? Jay-Z? No, that's not it…"

  The name lingered on the edge of his consciousness, just out of reach. A nagging feeling told him it was important—something he couldn't afford to forget.

  Then, it clicked.

  "…Ja—Jake. Right, it was Jake."

  The moment he said it, a strange sense of certainty settled over him. He still couldn't picture the face or recall any distinct details, but now that he had remembered the name, it refused to leave his mind.

  "Is that the name of the enemy?" His brows furrowed in thought.

  I need more information. Right now, nothing is certain.

  His gaze drifted toward the window, where the pale moonlight spilled into the room. His eyes darkened with an unreadable emotion as a new thought crept in.

  "…Since I'm in the past, wouldn't she still be alive…?"

  The question lingered in the air, left unanswered.***The sound of heels tiptoeing against the marble tiles created a melodious rhythm, ringing with urgency yet carrying an undeniable elegance and grace.

  Another pair followed, their rhythm echoing in corridor, the open space to the side reflected the illumination of grand spires and rows of luxurious buildings. A gentle breeze wove through the corridor, carrying the distant murmur of the city below.

  Moonlight streamed through the open arches, casting a soft glow upon a woman whose gown, pure white as freshly fallen snow, cascaded in yers of silk and chiffon. Each fold shimmered under the dim corridor light, the delicate embroidery of silver and pearl tracing intricate patterns along the bodice—frost-kissed vines entwining around her slender form. Her sheer, weightless sleeves draped like whispers of mist, while the flowing skirt billowed with each graceful step, a river of moonlight trailing behind her. A subtle luminescence clung to the fabric, as if woven with threads of stardust, ensuring she shone like a vision of celestial grace.

  Her silver hair spilled down her shoulders in a cascade of ethereal shimmer, the silken waves catching the moonlight, rippling with each graceful step.

  Her delicately arched eyebrows framed a gaze veiled in quiet mystery.

  In contrast to her delicate, pure, and otherworldly appearance, a slight frown graced her face.

  She spoke in a smooth, flowing tone, calm and pleasant to hear.

  "Era, why am I being summoned at this hour?"

  The maid trailing behind her—Era spoke with her head bowed.

  "Your Grace, His Majesty, King Aetherion, has summoned you." Era hesitated, lowering her voice.

  "...It seems urgent."

  A faint smile tugged her lips. Emperor, huh

  They arrived before the Arched Gate, where a soldier stood beside it, cd in full pte armor. His posture was alert—shoulders squared, gaze sharp. A sheathed sword hung at his waist, its scabbard adorned with the symbol of a radiant sun crowned in gold, the emblem of the Aetherion family's absolute rule, wisdom, and enlightenment.

  As his eyes were drawn to her, he thumped his fist against his chest. Upon her nod, he opened the arched door.

  Beyond it, a conference was already underway, various figures draped in robes engaged in quiet discourse. Yet, as if the world itself demanded their attention, all eyes turned to her. They lingered—some with reverence, others with veiled ambition. A few masked their intentions poorly, while others measured her with quiet calcution.

  One man stepped forward, a crown resting upon his head. He wore a deep midnight-blue robe, its fabric heavy with authority, embroidered with golden threads that wove intricate patterns.

  His voice, filled with warmth, rose above the quiet murmurs.

  "…My daughter, Charlotte."

  Princess Charlotte curtsied, her movements graceful and precise.

  "…Yes, Your Majesty. You called for me?"

  A soft smile graced his lips as he nodded.

  "Indeed. Something has come up, and we would like to seek your opinion on it."

  "It's my pleasure your majesty."

  They moved to the conference table, where a football-sized sphere rested. Inside it, a milky-white, sky-like substance swirled, shifting as if stirred by an unseen force.

  All of sudden the milky substance within the sphere trembled, rippling like disturbed water.

  Her gaze fell upon it, and her eyes turned bnk. A shiver ran through the air as she spoke, her voice distant.

  "Disturbance... in the Chrono Sphere."

  The Chrono Sphere was a Core Relic of the Aetherion Kingdom. Core Relics were artifacts that held a dense concentration of mana, coveted by both warriors and schors alike. This particur relic stood at the higher end of the mid-tier, its power extending beyond mere enhancement—it provided a real-time status of space and time across the entire kingdom.

  A man with a rge beard, cd in a fiery-red robe, stepped forward.

  "…Yes, Your Highness. Someone—or something—has entered our kingdom."

  Her fingers tightened around the fabric. She exhaled shakily, forcing steadiness into her voice before she turned to the king.

  "…Father, we must find it as soon as possible…"

  Her voice quivered with emotion.

  Zexusgo